


Summer Storm

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summer, and Party Poison and Fun Ghoul get caught in a storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fun Ghoul and Party Poison stuck outside in an acid rain, sharing a specially formulated and durable poncho.
> 
> Written for Manuanya's [Bandom Poncho Fic Meme](http://manuanya.livejournal.com/739617.html). Lightning beta by the most awesome Lucifuge5.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Poison hisses.

"It's not my fault," Ghoul says, again.

Poison looks around for some kind of shelter, anything, but all around there's nothing but flat, dusty desert. On the horizon, moving fast in their direction is a storm, green scraggly clouds spewing lighting. The thought of getting caught in an acid rain storm makes his skin crawl. "You got an AR poncho in your backpack?"

Usually Ghoul is pretty prepared, like a fucking scout, but they'd gotten kidnapped and mugged and dumped _here_ by a gang of fucked-up tweakheads and Poison wasn't sure what was left in Ghoul's pack after the tweaks had ransacked it.

Ghoul digs around in the battered canvas knapsack. "Oh, thank fuck," Ghoul sighs, holding up a small, flat packet. "Two would have been better, but one'll do."

"Barely," Poison mutters. "What else did they leave?"

"Maps. Some water. Didn't touch the Power Pup Bars," he says, ignoring Poison's snide _'Who would?'_ "We've still got the 'mergency beacon, which is good. Jet and Kobra'll come and get us."

"Not 'til after the storm, though." Poison looks back at the ominous clouds, squints at the horizon and makes a grabby motion for the maps. The wind is picking up, blowing dust and an acrid, chemical smell that fills their noses and makes their eyes water. "We need some kind of shelter." He squats down and spreads out one of the maps, looks for something, anything that could be— "There."

Ghoul looks at where Poison is pointing to on the map and scowls. "Too far. We won't get there before the storm hits."

"No, but it'll be somewhere to rest while we wait for Jet and Kobra to come and fucking rescue us." He folds the map up and gives it back to Ghoul for safekeeping. "We'll get as far as we can before the storm hits and once it does, we'll wait it out. Should be okay."

"You're fucking crazy, Poison, no one—"

"We're outta options," he says calmly. He grabs Ghoul's hand and starts off in the direction of their distant shelter at a gentle jog. "Let's go."

It's not long before the storm overtakes them and with an experienced flick of his hands Poison's gets the AR poncho open. It's basically a big sheet of black, neutralizer-treated plastic with a clear bubble on top. The bubble is a semi-permeable membrane designed to let CeeOhTwo out and OhTwo in, which Poison is happy about, 'cause he does like his Oxy.

He sticks his head into the bubble and hunkers down onto the sand, pulling Ghoul under the plastic and cuddling him close. "Help me tuck the plastic under us," he murmurs and it only takes a few moments and they're as safe as they can be in a storm of lightning and acid.

"Hold tight, baby," Poison says and Ghoul wraps his arms around Poison's waist as the rain comes down, hissing and turning the sky sickly green. Poison watches as the lightning crashes around them and the rain eats away at anything still living in the desert, scraggly grasses and the occasional cactus. His eyes tear from the constant bright flashes of lighting, imprinted with electric afterglows, and Ghoul jerks when the thunder crashes. Conversation is impossible, so Poison just hums to himself and keeps Ghoul plastered to his side.

The storm lasts forever and Ghoul has fallen into an uneasy doze, twitching restlessly against Poison. "Hey, baby, storm's over," he says, sliding his fingers to the back of Ghoul's neck and squeezing gently. "Time to get moving."

"Shiny," Ghoul mutters, rubbing at his eyes like a kid.

They pull the AR poncho off and look around. The air is hazy and grey with smoke and they both cough a little. What little life there was is blackened and burnt, dead. The desert is usually stark, but this goes far beyond that.

"Fuck," Ghoul says, which sums up Poison's feelings nicely.

"Let's go," he mutters, grabbing Ghoul's hand and holding tight.

-fin-


End file.
